Oh, woe is me. I’ve been here for days. I was hog-tied and drug in and forced to stay. I’ve lost thousands at least, give or take a few. My banker will kill me. What shall I do?

I make a straight on the flop – drawn out on the end. Then deuces full – killed once again. In agony I scream, “Change the deck, change the game!” Hand after hand the result is the same.

I hate all the dealers, the Poker God too. I’ve cussed everything ’til the air is blue. I’ll play one more hand, then I may start to win. If not . . . what the hell, I’ll just buy in again.